Blood Brothers
by usa123
Summary: Steve said he'd visit. Bucky thought it would be under better circumstances. Or, Steve's first visit to Bucky's farm did not happen as planned. No slash, no ships, no teams. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi Avengers fandom! It's been a long time. Did we all survive The Snap?**

 **For those of you who follow my Tumblr (usaOneTwoThree), this is not the whumpy Tony and Bucky post-** _ **Civil War**_ **story I've been promoting for the last few weeks. I got two offers for beta reading that fic and happily accepted. I'll start publishing it** **as soon as I can implement their wonderful suggestions! So, to tide you over, I finished off the goat fic I had been waiting to write until** _ **Forced Alliance**_ **was all said and done. I hope you enjoy all the same!**

 **Warnings: some mildly-graphic descriptions of a lifesaving surgery and someone giving blood. It's easily within the T-rating and isn't more graphic than anything you've seen in previous Marvel movies. But I did want to extend the warning in case those things squick you out. (You can just skip straight to chapter two, where all the fun occurs!)**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing except the futuristic Wakandan science.**

* * *

It had been a normal day in Wakanda before the call came in. Bucky had been working the patch of land he'd been loaned by T'Challa, trying to clear more space for this season's vegetable crop. His goats were roaming the land beside him but were generally doing more harm than good by getting underfoot or eating past the edges of the area he was trying to clear. The neighbor's kids, on one of their last days of summer break, were milling around, chattering at a million miles an hour and occasionally lifting a branch out of Bucky's way.

Then, his kimoyo beads flashed. Recognizing that it was a call, Bucky immediately put down the log he was moving and straightened up. Shuri was the only one who contacted him, mostly when she had a new idea for an upgrade. This time, however, her expression was somber instead of excited and Bucky felt his heart sink into the vicinity of his stomach.

"What happened?" he ground out. Around him, the children stopped playing and were watching the bracelet, as if clued into the gravity of the situation.

"It's Steve," Shuri said and Bucky forgot how to breathe.

"Is he alive?"

"Yes."

"Where is he?"

"The medical wing."

"I'm on my way."

Bucky shouted a few words at the kids, ordering them to pen up the goats before they went home, then took off at a full sprint toward the Palace.

It was only once he got there that he realized he should have at least changed out of his very sweaty and dirt-streaked work outfit. The guards were less than thrilled about letting him in in his current state until Shuri called them and gave the official override. Then, Bucky ran into no less than fifty high-ranking Wanakdan families as he desperately tried to push his way to the medical wing. A mixture of "sorry" and "urgent" in Wakandan flew from his mouth on repeat as he slithered through the crowd.

After what felt like an eternity, he burst into the medical wing hallway where he found Sam Wilson, in full combat gear, staring into a large glass window which looked in on the combination medical unit and lab.

"What happened?" Bucky demanded, covering the distance between them in three large steps. As soon as he could see into the window, he began scanning the other side of the glass.

A vise tightened around his ribs as he spied Steve lying shirtless on a long table under the metal ceiling of the Cradle. His friend was surrounded by a throng of white-coated doctors from the neck down, which left Bucky only one clear view of his face. He was not reassured by Steve's harsh white pallor and the small tube poking out of the corner of his mouth. The tube led into a small box on a side table, which joined the rest of the screens surrounding Steve in flashing, blaring, and bleating things that were obviously subpar.

Bucky hadn't even realized he'd lost himself in the wash of sound until Sam spoke again. "Bad intel," the pararescue said quietly, almost detachedly. "They had these…" he made a motion with his hands to show an object about five feet long, "...longswords that split into four. We didn't know 'til they got Steve."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"He needs blood," Shuri's voice boomed through the two pinpoint speakers in the upper corners of the observation window. A split second later, she stepped into the lab and pointed to Bucky. " _Your_ blood to be exact."

Without hesitation, Bucky nodded and began walking toward the decontamination room that bridged the hallway and the lab.

"I can give too," Sam was saying behind him, "if Steve needs."

By that time, Bucky had slipped out of the sling that hid the stump of his metal arm from public view and stepped inside the decontamination room. The roaring of the wind and chemicals past his body kept him from hearing the rest of Shuri and Sam's conversation.

As soon as the door to the lab slid open, Bucky held out his flesh arm to Shuri. "Take as much as you need."

She nodded then turned on her heel and began walking over to where Steve was lying; Bucky trailed less than a step behind her. "Our technology can do many things," she began, "but it cannot repair what does not already exist." As they got closer, Bucky could see the doctors working on Steve's abdomen, their gloves and coats splattered with a great deal of red. "We can fix Captain Rogers' wound but we cannot replenish his blood, and especially not the serum on such short notice.

"Unfortunately we Wakandans cannot donate to your kind. There is trace amounts of vibranium in our blood, a byproduct of the land we live on. I fear it would be too much shock to his already fragile system, especially in conjunction with the dose he will be receiving from the Cradle."

Shuri stopped walking, forcing Bucky to sidestep to avoid running into her, then turned to face him with a deadly serious expression. "In the interest of full disclosure, it is a risk to give him your blood as well, since you are of a different type. Unfortunately, it is our only option."

"What about Sam's?" Despite how it sounded, Bucky's question was purely informational: more viable donors meant more blood for Steve, which gave his friend a greater chance of survival.

"Our analysis reveals your blood is most similar to Captain Rogers', even with your version of the serum, which suggests a greater chance of his body accepting it." Shuri now led Bucky over to a chair less than three feet from where Steve was lying. "Still, we will do some filtering before he receives it in hopes of lessening the rejection."

At this distance, Bucky could see his friend's ashen pallor, which was only amplified by the dark bags under his eyes and the blood gushing from the deep gouges in his abdomen. The doctors were trying to insert what looked like layers of a thin mesh into the gaping holes in Steve's stomach while simultaneously suctioning out the openings. Despite their efforts, it didn't appear they were having any real success with actually slowing the bleeding.

"I know it looks primitive," Shuri continued as she gently pushed Bucky down into the seat, which then reclined until his feet were above his heart, "but once the initial wounds are closed, the Cradle can begin its work. When it is done, only Captain Rogers' own skin and tissue will remain."

Shuri slipped a pair of thick sunglasses over his eyes without explanation, then disappeared from his line of sight. As if on cue, one of the doctors detached herself from the horde and hurried over to Barnes. She smiled wanly at him, then began sanitizing and prepping his arm.

Bucky barely noticed the needle being inserted but was greatly surprised by the chair rising into the air a few moments later. He forced himself not to freak out, reminding himself who this was for; thankfully, the chair stopped moving not long after and hovered a steady five feet above the ground. It was only then that Bucky saw his blood beginning to flow down the tube connecting his arm to Steve's.

 _C'mon Steve_ , Bucky thought—actually almost pleaded—as his blood entered Steve's arm. _This isn't the end of the line yet. Especially when I wasn't around._

Then, bright lights in the top of the Cradle were turned on and adjusted until they focused in four beams, one for each of the deep, raw gouges that ran from Steve's right hip to his left pec. Bucky squinted preemptively at the brightness but, a split second later, the glasses adjusted so he could see the action below him without issue.

The doctors continued to layer mesh inside Steve while the lights moved back and forth along the gouges, cycling methodically from corner to corner. Progress was slow but eventually even Bucky could see the amount of blood the doctors were having to suction diminish.

"How are you doing, Sergeant?" Shuri called up to him.

"Fine," he shouted back, to be heard over the hum of the lights. "Take as much as he needs."

After that, time started to get a little blurry. Steve was still unconscious, the doctors were still working, but Bucky was back on the ground and the lab was spinning rather intensely.

The needle was pulled out of his arm quickly but efficiently, then he was on the ground with his legs on the seat of the chair and Shuri leaning over him.

"I apologize Sergeant. I think we took too much."

Undeterred, Bucky held up his arm again. "Take more," he rasped as the lab tilted dangerously. "He needs it."

Shuri shook her head. "Not today, Sergeant. You've given your limit."

"I can take it," he snapped as he forced his elbow under him to raise his head. The lab was still spinning faster than the disk ride at Coney Island but Bucky just swallowed hard, set his jaw and tried again to lift himself upright.

Suddenly, a soft hand was on his shoulder. He tried to pull away but his treacherous body refused. Resignedly, he looked over to find Shuri crouching beside him, looking at him with great concern in her expression.

"There's nothing more you can do for him," she said softly. "Your blood has already stabilized his vitals, which is allowing our physicians to continue with the regeneration process." Then, she held out a bottle of water and a bag of a dried food Bucky didn't recognize. "You, however, need to eat something or you will end up in the bed beside him."

While Shuri was talking, Bucky had been trying to shift over so she was no longer blocking his view of Steve. It was only after he planted his foot against the base of the Cradle and slid his torso left that he was successful. "How is he?" Bucky was forced to ask, when he didn't see any difference in Steve's condition from his new vantage point.

Shuri frowned at his deferral but, when he made no motion of continuing her train of thought without that answer, sighed unhappily. "He would have died if Sam had not brought him here. His wounds were too massive for your primitive medicine."

"And now?"

"I would have to confer with the physicians but he appears to be recovering." Then she looked disapprovingly down at him. "You are not eating."

Bucky wasn't particularly hungry but he knew arguing with Shuri was a losing battle. Also, based on the amount of blood he'd seen outside of Steve's body, his friend was going to need another donation, which meant Bucky needed to give his system the tools it needed to replenish its supply.

He managed to force down the bag of chips but had considerably more difficulty with the water: he managed to open it with his right hand after securing the base between his knees but, in his upside down position, he ended up spilling a large amount of it on himself before he could find the strength to lift his head from the ground.

By the time the bottle was empty, the lab had stopped spinning and, the second Bucky realized this, he launched himself to his feet. The lights were still dancing along Steve's abdomen but the tube was gone from his friend's mouth. As a bonus, his friend looked marginally less pale—a small voice in the back of Bucky's brain told him it could be a byproduct of the lights but Bucky refused to believe it.

He heard a soft tapping on the glass and looked up to see Sam staring expectantly at him, his arms held wide in a questioning gesture.

Bucky tried to force a smile on his face but, in case that wasn't convincing, he held up a weak thumbs-up. Relief broke over Sam's expression and he immediately pulled out his cell phone.

"Can he come in?" Barnes asked Shuri, who shook her head.

"In fact, you should leave as well."

"I'm not—"

"Please Sergeant. You are not properly protected from the Cradle. You really shouldn't have been in here for as long as you have in that," she motioned to his work outfit. It was then that Bucky noticed the doctors were wrapped in what looked like a thin plastic film, which he could only assume was the Wakandan version of a hazmat suit. If he hadn't been looking for the slight sheen, he never would have noticed it. As he turned around, he saw that Shuri had donned one as well.

Bucky hated the idea of leaving Steve with every fiber of his being but, he didn't want to demand his own suit, which would only distract someone from helping his friend. Reluctantly, he nodded then walked back into the decontamination unit. The air didn't rush past him and instead, the door opened on the far side once he was out of the previous sensor's range.

"He'll be alright?" Sam pressed as soon as Bucky had reentered the hallway.

"Shuri believes so."

The two watched the procedure for another ten minutes, at which point the doctors stopped working and began talking quickly in Wakandan. Shuri, who had been standing beside them, was now contributing to the conversation while tapping rapidly on her tablet.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, pressing his face closer to the glass. In the lab, the closest doctor placed her palm on the table next to Steve and the Cradle lights immediately blinked off.

"I don't know." Bucky had picked up his fair share of the language but the words were flying past him far too fast for him to understand.

He tapped lightly on the glass, as Sam had done earlier, to catch Shuri's attention. She held up one hand then finished speaking to the closest doctor to her. In the background, the other doctors were now pulling out what seemed like long strips of thin black tape and laying them over what remained of Steve's wounds.

Shuri then dipped her head at the doctor she had been speaking with and made her way back through the decontamination unit into the hallway.

"What happened?" Bucky and Sam demanded, in perfect unison, as soon as the hallway door slid open.

"As best we can tell, the Cradle has begun to negatively interact with the serum," Shuri explained, while continuing to consult with her tablet. "I can only hypothesize that it kicked the serum into high-gear, which is now stressing out Captain Rogers' system. As Doctor Cethe suspected, turning off the Cradle stopped this reaction. Unfortunately, this means we cannot use the Cradle again until Captain Rogers has had time to recover. Fortunately, we were almost completely done with the procedure; there is only very limited superficial damage yet to be healed."

"Thank God," Sam breathed.

"So he's going to be okay?" It sure sounded like it but Bucky's head was still a little foggy from his unplanned blood donation. He needed to hear it said very plainly before he could be relieved.

Shuri nodded. "Not as quickly as he would have been if we could have completely finished the procedure but, yes, now he will heal on his own."

"Thank you." The words seemed woefully inadequate but Bucky said them anyway as he reached out and rested his hand against Shuri's.

Sam was quick to chime in his appreciation as well. "We don't mean to take advantage of your technology," he added, "but, without it, we definitely would have lost him." He swallowed hard before continuing, "Still, I understand the Council didn't have to let us in. We are in your debt."

It was a much nicer expression of gratitude than the mishmash of words and phrases jumbling around in Bucky's brain. He was grateful one of them had the ability to vocalize it.

"We understand, Sam," Shuri said, finally looking up from her tablet. "It is because of that reason that we were allowed to treat him." She grinned lopsidedly. "And that fact that he won over the rest of the majority when he continued to pass back any information about Wakandan perception or any potential threats to our nation."

That last bit came as a surprise to Bucky but, almost immediately, he realized it shouldn't have. Of course, Steve would have been looking out for the country that was harboring him as a means of thanking T'Challa. Now that Bucky had heard Shuri say it, he wouldn't have expected any less from his friend.

"If I may be so bold," Shuri then spoke up, instantly earning both Bucky's and Sam's attention. "Now that Captain Rogers is stable, I believe showers are in order for both of you." She held up her hand as both Sam and Bucky opened their mouths to protest. "He will remain in the lab for at least the next thirty minutes and your presence, while thoughtful, is not required. I will make sure you are updated if anything changes."

When neither of them moved, Shuri spoke again: "I can make it an official order if you wish."

Both Avengers frowned before shaking their heads in unhappy concession.

Shuri beamed at them. "There's a locker room at the end of the hallway, in case you've forgotten." With that, she glided down the hallway—literally. There was a glowing substance allowing her shoes to hover about six inches in the air.

"Now!" she called over her shoulder when she realized they still hadn't moved.

Sam and Bucky exchanged glances then, in unison, looked over at Steve, who was still unconscious but continuing to breathe on his own volition. With that small reassurance in the back of both their minds, they headed toward the locker room before Shuri felt the need to involve the palace guards.

* * *

 _While I did try to make this semi-plausible, please chalk any scientific inaccuracies up to the technological advancements of Wakanda._

 _Up next: Steve regains consciousness and, once he is well enough to be released, he is sent to recuperate at Bucky's farm. Expect lots of bonding, reminiscing, goats, and hijinks!_

 _Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

**A tiny bit of wrap-up on the 'hurt' before we get to the 'comfort'** — **and the much needed R &R for our intrepid trio.**

* * *

Three hours later, Steve was slowly coming around. After the doctors had reexamined him and been convinced the negative reaction with the serum had abated, Steve had been sent to an adjacent room where both Bucky and Sam were sitting by his bed, watching his every twitch. He was still shirtless though his skin was now a drastically warmer shade than the bandages wrapped from his ribs to his waist.

Finally, after a few false starts and raised hopes, Steve's eyelids slid open.

"Hey," Bucky said softly but Steve didn't respond before he drifted back to sleep.

"He's been through a lot," was all Sam said, though it was obvious in his tone he'd been just as eager as Bucky to see his friend regain consciousness.

* * *

There were a few false alarms after that too, but then suddenly, Steve was awake and, for all intents and purposes, conscious. He was moving within the next second, trying to free himself from the bed sheet with one hand while simultaneously pushing something invisible aside with the other. His efforts were severely hampered by the IV in the back of his left hand and the monitoring patches on his chest. He scowled at the IV then turned his glare to the room.

He froze in a half-upright position when he saw Bucky.

"B'k?" he slurred, barely understandable. His eyes were wide, pupils uneven, and his movements were short and choppy. "What're you—"

Suddenly, his face drained of all its color and he barely managed to drop his head over the side of the bed before he was spraying the floor with whatever was left in his stomach.

"Doctor Cethe!" Bucky cried as he lurched forward to keep Steve from falling out of the bed during round two. Sam was on Steve's other side in an instant, holding the soldier's hand steady to keep him from ripping out the IV, while rubbing wide circles on his back.

The door behind them flew open and two Wakandans entered. Doctor Cethe, who was tall and lean and wore her curly hair tied back by a brightly colored cloth, and Nurse Ndaba, an older fellow with streaks of white in his close-cropped hair but who was no less capable than the younger medical staff, gently but firmly pushed Bucky and Sam out of the way so they could attend to their patient. They were exchanging quick and measured dialog in Wakandan but it was Sam who had the state of mind to look at the screens flashing around Steve's head.

"He's running a fever," he announced after doing some quick conversions. Dr. Cethe nodded her agreement then, while Nurse Ndaba helped rest Steve back in bed, she added another bag to Steve's the IV and affixed an anti-nausea patch to Steve's arm. Steve immediately stilled and the harsh lines etched in his face softened. He was conscious only a minute more before his eyes fell closed.

"An IV of antibiotics and a mild sedative to get him through the next few hours," Dr. Cethe explained.

"What is causing the fever?"

"It could be a variety of things, Sergeant. It could be a reaction to the last remnants of vibranium, to your blood, to something in the wound." To Bucky's dismay, she actually shrugged. "We have never treated anyone with blood like his. We are as…" she slipped into her native tongue for the idiom. As far as Bucky and his limited Wakandan could tell, it was something along the lines of 'in the dark', which was not at all reassuring, "...as you are," she finished before turning to converse with Nurse Ndaba.

"We will try filtering his blood again," she reported back to the former Avengers.

As she began pulling equipment out of a nearby drawer, Bucky's kimoyo beads flashed.

 _You were not this much trouble_ , a text from Shuri read.

Bucky had to look up at Steve and take in his slow, steady breaths, before he could type back, _Steve's never been one to do things halfway_.

A beat later, _You are very lucky you brought him here_.

 _Yes,_ Bucky thought as he continued to watch his friend sleep soundly, despite the new needle being inserted into his arm, _yes we are._

* * *

Much to everyone's relief, Steve's fever broke two hours and twenty minutes into the modified dialysis and new round of antibiotics. Then, four long hours after that, he drifted back into full and stable consciousness.

It took a minute to get his eyes to focus on the same object but, after that, he looked down to find Bucky and Sam passed out by his feet. Bucky had his right elbow pillowed underneath his head with his arm stretched out so his hand was resting on Steve's sheet-covered ankle. Sam was on Steve's left and was resting his forehead against his crossed arms which were braced against the bottom section of the hospital bed.

"H'y," Steve said, though his voice was little more than a whisper. Not surprisingly, his friends didn't respond. He worked to gather all the saliva he could, swallowed hard, then repeated himself with marginally more force.

The effect was instantaneous. Bucky jolted upright, incidentally pulling on the sheet which woke Sam. Their collective gazes honed in on Steve in less than an instant.

"You're awake!"

Steve winced as the sound drilled into his ears but closed his eyes in what he hoped they'd understand as a 'yes'.

He looked over at Bucky who looked overjoyed to see him awake. But something about that was wrong. Bucky hadn't been there when he'd been injured. Bucky'd been in—

"Wakanda?" Steve rasped. Nodding, Bucky reached over and offered Steve a drink from a clear cup with a crazy straw spiraling out of the top. Steve eyed it cautiously but was too thirsty to put up much resistance; thankfully, the liquid defied physics and was easy to pull through the straw.

"Bad?" he asked once the cup was empty.

"One step short of evisceration," Sam replied.

Steve winced.

"Bucky here had to give you a blood transfusion just to make sure you survived Shuri's tech."

Steve blinked in surprise then looked over at Bucky, who lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. Steve still couldn't make his arms and legs move at will but, thankfully, Sam reached over and swatted Bucky on the shoulder. "It was a pretty big deal," the pararescue said, levelling an unimpressed gaze at Barnes.

Bucky looked extremely uncomfortable under the praise and almost immediately shifted so he was looking more at Steve. "Let's not make a habit of it, okay?" was all he said as he reached out and laid his hand on Steve's.

It was then that Steve saw the tightness in his face and the sharp lines of his shoulders. Too tired to have a full conversation about that right then, he just nodded. "I'll try."

Bucky's lips were still pressed so tightly together they were almost white but the edge in his eyes had softened. "Good."

* * *

Just after the sun rose, Steve was released from the medical wing on little more than a technicality.

Shuri had wanted to keep him around to see if she couldn't adapt the Cradle to work _with_ the serum instead of against it but Steve had politely refused. He knew what a fragile relationship they had with a majority of Wakandans and didn't want to stress that by being discovered at the palace by someone who wouldn't be as accepting of them as Shuri and her family were. Steve had suggested phoning Natasha, who apparently had only dropped him and Sam off in hopes that the smaller party would convince the Council to treat Steve, to come get them but he was emphatically and repeatedly told by multiple parties that that was a bad idea. After a lot of unnecessary discussion, they compromised by having him stay at Bucky's new home until he was completely recovered.

It ended up not being the worst idea as it would give Steve and Bucky some much needed time to catch up.

After one final examination by Dr. Cethe, Bucky drove the Jeep Shuri had loaned them along the river to the hut he now called home. Though he was going slowly and was being careful to mind the bumps, he could still see Steve's jaw tighten every time the Jeep lurched.

Still, his friend perked up when they arrived at Bucky's hut. "I can't believe you run a farm," Steve said as he began to slowly maneuver himself out of the backseat.

"It's not a farm yet," Bucky countered as he held out a hand for Steve to use as balance. As expected, Steve just scrunched up his face at his friend and lowered himself to the ground on his own accord.

"That's something a farmer would say," he replied once his feet were beneath him.

Bucky really couldn't deny him that.

* * *

Shuri had sent them home with a basket of food, on the suspicion Bucky wouldn't have enough for his two new visitors. She had been correct as always so, after they unpacked the neverending basket, they sat on mats inside his hut and feasted.

"I'm fine," Steve mumbled sometime into the meal, around a mouthful of crusty bread and goat cheese. Confused, Bucky and Sam looked over at each other and simultaneously realized they'd both been spending more time watching Steve than actually eating themselves. They returned to their own food but both saw the other continuing to check on Steve's progress more subtly throughout the meal.

They then dragged the mats outside and layered them with some of the beanbag-like blobs that served as rather comfortable chairs. From this spot, the three were able to see the land Bucky was working down the hill by the river, as well as the wide range of other homes and farms that spanned almost the entire horizon. Even one-armed, it was obvious Bucky was keeping up with most of his neighbors in preparation for the upcoming seeding.

They were sitting mostly in silence, enjoying the soft rush of the breeze through the trees, when Steve spoke up: "So, blood brothers for real, huh?"

"Yup," Bucky replied, drawing out the last sound in hopes Steve would take the hint that he really didn't want to revisit the events of the last day.

Unfortunately, Steve didn't drop the subject entirely but, thankfully, he did pick a marginally happier memory to segue to. "Wonder what Sister Catherine would say now."

"Who was Sister Catherine?" Sam asked, his ears perking up almost comically, as if sensing he was going to get a (hopefully embarrassing) story. Bucky saw this and made a rather rude gesture in Sam's general direction. Sam immediately returned it which led to the two of them scowled at each other until Steve glared at both of them in turn.

"Don't make me come over there…" he warned from the depths of his heavily padded seat. If Steve would have been slightly healthier, Bucky would have dared him but, as is, he let the subject drop.

Then, Steve met Bucky's gaze and held out his hand in an invitation to finish the story, if he remembered it. Fortunately, this memory was so deeply ingrained that even the Hydra's wipes hadn't been able to remove it for long.

The things he did for Steve.

"Everyone else was doing it," Bucky grumbled obligingly, "so one day we borrowed my pa's knife and went behind the school at lunch and tried it—"

"I cut my finger just fine," Steve interrupted, fixing Bucky with his most winning grin.

Sam looked over at Barnes, who was scowling but had yet to continue to the story. "I take it you didn't?" he prompted.

"I guess mine was a bit deep."

" _A bit?_ You cut all the way to the bone!"

"Okay, so more than a bit."

With a slight wince, Steve shifted so he was facing Sam. "We couldn't stop the bleeding so we had to go see Sister Catherine. We told her he fell but then she saw _my_ finger and we got busted."

"Clapped erasers for a month and got one of the worst verbal dressing-downs of my life." As if on cue, Bucky's ears started to burn and he rubbed both against the tops of his shoulders until the feeling subsided.

"She stitched it up for him though," Steve continued, " _and_ rinsed out his shirt so his parents wouldn't find out."

"I think she liked me."

Steve snorted. "That's one way of putting it. Joey Mantagola tried it with Drew Houghton a few days later and got his knuckles rapped but good."

Bucky looked over at Steve in surprise. "I don't remember that." He hadn't meant to make Steve upset by saying it but his friend's smile drooped just a little and he glanced quickly away.

Before Bucky could say anything though, the grin was back at just under supernova brightness. It was an obvious deflection but it was equally obvious that neither of them had the energy to unpack that right now.

Thankfully, Steve was on the same page. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat before changing the subject. " _Any_ way, I really owe you. And you too—" he said, once again shifting to look at Sam, "—for getting me in here."

Sam waved his hand dismissively. "Like Terminator said, let's just not make a habit of it."

"Really? Terminator?" Bucky questioned with a forced sigh.

"I'm a little short on sleep," the pararescue retorted as he closed his eyes, kicked out his legs and leaned back his head. "I'll come up with a better one later."

"A nap doesn't sound like the worst idea." As he spoke, Bucky looked over at Steve, who was obviously struggling to keep his eyes open. "My bed isn't half bad."

It was a testament to how poorly Steve must have really been feeling that he allowed himself to be pushed onto the bed with only minor protests that he really should take the futon.

* * *

After a nap and lunch, the three went down to the land Bucky was clearing. Sam ended up doing a lion's share of the work, citing that Barnes too was recovering from yesterday, while Steve had been relegated to supervising from under the shade of a nearby tree. They'd made it about fifty minutes, which was about forty more than Bucky had actually thought they'd get, before Steve volunteered to help.

"From a seated position!" he chimed in, as if that'd make a difference.

Sam very slowly straightened up and reminded Steve that he'd literally been holding his organs in place less than a day ago. The supersoldier's jaw had clamped closed and he didn't make any more foolish suggestions for the rest of the afternoon.

Just before dinner, the three migrated back to Bucky's hut and sat beside the porch so they could have an unobstructed view of the upcoming sunset. Not long they'd gotten settled, the neighborhood kids herded the goats back into Bucky's pen and asked Bucky in Wakandan how his friend was doing. This, of course, led to introductions, to both the kids and the goats.

"You named him Steve?" Human Steve asked, as the goat in question charged up to a much larger goat, who was clearly annoying the female he was trying to woo.

"I can't imagine why," Sam deadpanned.

The much larger goat, Vincent Van Goat (named by Thandiwe and _not_ by Bucky, thank you very much), stared at Goat Steve with disapproval before slowly backing away. Goat Steve was clearly surprised by his victory and bounced away...directly into the post of the enclosure.

The kids didn't seem surprised by this and just waved goodbye to Bucky before skipping back to their homes. Bucky, however, was trying to smother his grin while Sam was laughing so hard he would have fallen out his chair had Steve not caught one of his belt loops and pulled him back.

"I hate both of you," Steve stated before he crossed his arms over his chest with a wince and looked pointedly at the sky.

By the time Sam managed to right himself in the chair, he'd caught his breath enough to speak. "C'mon Steve. You have to admit it's a little funny."

"I should have let you fall," Steve groused but, after a second, both Sam and Bucky saw he too was fighting back a grin.

* * *

Dinner was quick and casual but the food was consumed by all three men without complaint. Along with the remainder of the bread from lunch, Bucky had thrown a majority of the meat and vegetables into a pot, which he'd left simmering over an open fire for the last few hours. He saved very little of what Shuri had sent, knowing he'd be making his daily trip to the neighborhood market to get fresh food for tomorrow's meals.

"It was good," Steve said to his friend as he washed dishes. While sitting in a beanbag. Expending very little extra energy.

Sam had volunteered to dry, which left Bucky sitting at the table, feeling oddly out of place while everyone worked around him. "Even you couldn't mess it up," he retorted to return some normalcy to the situation.

In lieu of replying, Steve threw the sponge at him. Bucky ducked out of instinct but quickly realized he hadn't needed to when the sponge sailed high over his head and out the open door.

Both Bucky and Sam looked over at the normally very accurate Steve in surprise. "It's the chair," their friend explained defensively, his eyes flashing slightly with the perceived challenge.

They were all far too tired to rise to that bait. "Uh huh," was all Bucky said as he hauled himself to his feet and retrieved the sponge...which he handed over Steve's head to Sam. Ignoring Steve's protest, Sam just nodded and shifted over to assume his new position as head dishwasher.

"Maybe if you cut that mop in front of your eyes, you'd be able to throw better," Barnes quipped as he dropped back into his seat.

"I like my long hair!" To prove his point, Steve ran his hand over his head and winced as his fingers got caught in a knot.

"Do you also like that thing growing on your face?"

Sam snorted then pointedly returned to washing the soup pot.

"It's a helluva lot less work than shaving every day," Steve countered, brushing at his chin with the back of his hand. "I do trim it, you know, so I don't look like a mountain man."

"Could have fooled me."

Steve reared back to throw the dish towel he'd been handed in the job trade but Sam snatched it out of his hand before it too could end up on the ground.

"Work now, joke later," he ordered, pointing at the stack of newly cleaned dishes.

Steve cleared his throat unhappily but started to dry dishes. Still from a seated position. Where he expended very little energy.

Bucky however was having far too much fun to let the conversation die there. As he began to snark back at Steve, mostly about his surprise that he could grow facial hair at all now, Sam just rolled his eyes and, not for the first time this trip, wondered how this had become his life.

* * *

The next day, the three were playing cards when Bucky received word through his kimoyo beads that some of the tribes had caught word of Steve's arrival and were looking for him. Shuri hadn't been able to discern their exact intentions but she obviously thought them serious enough to call.

"I guess that's our cue to leave," Steve said, slowly pushing himself up from the table.

"You can't," Bucky sputtered as panic rose within him. "You're not fully healed yet."

Steve smiled warmly at him. "I'll be fine, Buck. Promise."

"I'll make sure he gets checked out a few more times," Sam stage-whispered to Bucky, who grinned despite his friend's looming departure.

"I heard that," Steve snapped but there was no heat in his words. He stood and looked at Sam who motioned for Steve to go on ahead.

"I'll call Natasha," the soldier said then proceeded to slowly make his way out to the Jeep, with one hand pressed slightly to his abdomen for additional support.

Bucky waited until Steve was out of earshot before turning to Sam. "Thank you. For bringing him here."

Sam shrugged. "We didn't really have a choice."

"I know. But you did anyway."

Sam slowly reached out and clasped Bucky's shoulder. "I'm just watching his back until you're ready to do it yourself."

Bucky nodded then held out his right hand. Sam shook, at the same time pulling Bucky into a quick one-armed hug. It lasted for about a second before Bucky squirmed out of Sam's grip. The intention was nice and Sam had given him enough forewarning with his body language that he had been willing to try it but, as it turned out: "I'm not quite ready for that yet," Bucky said by way of explanation.

Fortunately, when he looked up, all he saw in Sam's expression was understanding. The pararescue nodded, grinned lopsidedly, then followed Bucky out of the hut.

"Did my eyes deceive me or are you two finally bonding?" Steve asked from where he was leaning against the side of the Jeep. He was positively beaming, his eyes crinkling from the force of his ear-splitting grin.

"Don't get used to it." Sam nodded Bucky's way one last time before clapping Steve on the shoulder and walking around to the driver's side of the Jeep.

Bucky quickly strode over to where Steve was standing, before his friend got it in his mind to walk back to the hut. "Don't be such a stranger," he said as he desperately tried to ignore the way his stomach was clenching and rolling.

"I promise to visit when I'm completely healthy," Steve responded. "I gotta see how your crops turn out and how Goat Steve comes to rule the herd." The corner of his mouth quirked upward, an expression which Bucky found hard to not replicate.

But then the smile dropped off of Steve's face and he looked somberly over at Bucky. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

The former Soldier snorted. "After all these years, it's practically my default state." But then he paused. "Just...be careful," he added after a minute. "The line's not over for a long time yet."

"I'm really going to miss you," was all Steve said before he held his arms out wide.

Bucky stepped into the hug without question and rested his head against Steve's chest so he could hear his friend's heart beating: slowly, steadily, powerfully. "Me too."

"Oh, so it's just _my_ hugs you don't like?"

"Shut up, Sam," Bucky snapped while Steve laughed into his shoulder.

"I'll be back soon," his friend promised before tightening the hug ever so briefly.

Then the two stepped apart.

"Give Shuri, Dr. Cethe and Nurse Ndaba my thanks, next time you're back at the palace?" Steve asked.

"Tell them yourself next time you visit.'

Steve smiled at Bucky one more time then walked over to the Jeep and popped open the passenger door. "Bye Goat Steve!" he called as he carefully leveraged himself into the seat. "Look after this place for me!"

Sam waited until Steve was buckled in before slowly taking off the road, apparently mindful of the dust he'd leave in his wake. While that might seem status quo for a lot of people, Bucky was touched by the gesture from Sam.

Steve stuck his hand through the roll bars and waved at Bucky until the Jeep disappeared over the ridge.

When the last cloud of dust had disappeared, Bucky looked back at Goat Steve, who was standing at the bottom of the ramp to the front door, looking up at him with a cocked head. Bucky laughed then sat down on a mat and began pulling on his boots.

"C'mon Goat Steve," Bucky said as he headed off to the field. "We got work to do."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought on your way out!**


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